


Hanal'ghilan

by orphan_account, talverrar (orphan_account)



Series: Sparrow [2]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Dalish Get Everything Wrong Again, F/M, Made up lore, Sick Solas
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-07
Updated: 2015-04-07
Packaged: 2018-03-21 17:23:05
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,423
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3700767
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account, https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/talverrar
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Solas is sick and needs a bedtime story. Lavellan provides, and he even manages to shut up about the dalish for once. Or does he?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Hanal'ghilan

**Author's Note:**

> The story is based on the slavic legend, "The Golden Duck".

Solas' head was laying on her breast. It was hard enough to think in his presence anyway, and now she even had to control her frantic breathing. She blushed in embarrassment at the thought of waking him up with how fast her chest was heaving. She felt like a trapped hare or a startled halla. Her heart was beating deafeningly loud.  
Mythal, she was pitiful.  
"Would you mind telling me a story, vhenan?"  
He wasn't sleeping after all. Wonderful.  
"A bedtime story? Aren't you a bit too old for that?"  
"I'm sick, after all. Shouldn't you be taking a better care of me?" He knew her every weakness, his voice being the first one on the list. Throaty, a bit hoarse from coughing, contrasting with his soft accent. He lifted his head to grin up at her.  
She looked away.  
"I know a few stories from my brother, but they aren't anything you'd find interesting. Myths, legends, parables, probably full of mistakes. They exist to entertain and to teach, not as history lessons."  
"All the better then. Such stories are harmless and require no correction. I shall refrain from interrupting you. Please, go on."  
His expression softened, and he lowered his head back down to her chest. She stroked his cheek tentatively and he kissed her hand.  
"Fine, then. Let's start with..."  
  
* * *  
  
Once upon a time there was a young elf called Yaevin. He was predestined to be the First of his clan, and though his magic was strong, he was selfish, greedy and arrogant. The Keeper of his clan thought that he'd grow up and become a better person over time, but as the years passed, Yaevin remained the same, despite everyone's best efforts.  
The clan was poor and hunger often plagued its members. Yaevin started stealing from shemlen to fill his own belly, not caring about their possible vengeance. One day he overheard them talking about a golden halla, whose antlers were worth a fortune.  
The next night, he escaped from his clan without even a word goodbye. Over the next three days, he searched the entire forest in his quest to find the golden halla, dreaming of the life he could lead if he succeeds.

  
The hunt was fruitless. He was a mage, after all, and knew very little about the wilderness.  
On the fourth day of his journey, he spotted a gigantic white wolf. He kindled a magical flame to scare it off, but the creature only laughed mockingly.  
"What are you trying to accomplish, little one? Picking a fight with Fen’Harel?"  
And Yaevin shuddered and knelt down, for once the Dread Wolf has caught your scent, you can only beg for his mercy.  
"Master, I am only a mere traveler. I didn't mean to get lost in your den."  
"Oh, but I can sense a lie. You have left your clan to hunt down the golden halla. I've been watching you ever since you’d strayed away from the path."  
The elf bowed his head down, praying to every god he remembered. Tears started streaming down his face.  
“My, my, what a pitiful little thing. How do you expect to even find her if you fear a peaceful talk? We’re all friends here. And in order to prove that, I shall take you directly to her.”  
Then, not waiting for even a murmur of acknowledgment, he took Yaevin by the waist of his pants and ran.  
He ran, and ran, and ran until finally, after what seemed like an eternity, the wolf stopped and let him fall onto his knees again. The Dread Wolf laughed, the sound of which made Yaevin nauseous. He looked around, and suddenly the god was gone.

  
Right before him stood Hanal'ghilan, and her shining fur forced him to reluctantly look away. She was the most beautiful, noble creature he’d ever seen. Her antlers looked like they were covered in precious jewels and glitter. Her eyes were wise and gentle.  
“Hello, child. Because you have found me, I shall give you a prize. In your bag you shall find my old antlers. I have no need for them anymore, but you can sell them in the city. If you manage to spend every coin you gained in one night, you can have my head, and my skin, and my golden antlers. But you can only spend the money on your own needs, otherwise everything of yours will be lost.”  
With that said, she also disappeared into the woods. And indeed, in his bag were silver antlers, shimmering like moonlight. Without hesitation, Yaevin set down the path which had suddenly appeared in front of him, thanking Fen’Harel for what seemed like a blessing.

  
He reached the city by noon in high spirits, thinking of all the food he was going to have. A hooded man by the gates asked him about the contents of his bag and traded the antlers for a hundred sovereigns. “I’m finally someone, I’m finally rich, none of my clanmates would ever have this much money,” he thought, weighting the pleasantly heavy purse in his hand.  
The city was booming with life. The merchants were yelling loudly, praising their wares. So he stopped by each of them and bought everything that caught his eye. Surprisingly, he spent only one sovereign though he could hardly carry all the bags, filled with utmost exotic treasures.  
He hired a few boys to carry his baggage and found a hairdresser, who braided his long hair in a way which made him look like a prince. Few hours later and he bought a dozen robes, embroidered with silver and golden threads, with jewels on the collar and sleeves.  
After all of this he felt the enthusiasm wear off as his stomach rumbled in hunger. So he set out to find the most luxurious restaurant and ordered everything on the menu. Having other elves serve him made him feel uneasy, but he easily forgot about them thanks to the wine. All of this for less than two sovereigns.  
He managed to buy a house worthy of an arl, a gigantic white mansion in the center of the city, with golden walls and mirrors with mahogany furniture and velvet curtains for about than twenty sovereigns, and the sun had already gone to rest. He didn’t even manage to get rid of half the money he was supposed to spend, and while there were plenty of places he could lose all of his coin, he was sure gambling tonight wouldn’t be the best of ideas, considering he had the Lord of Tricksters following his every move.

  
Yaevin wandered around for a good half an hour until he stumbled upon what seemed to be the poorer side of the city. A small square, and a big, painted tree in the center.  
An alienage.  
It was the first one he’d ever seen, and it made his heart ache. Seeing his tired, thin cousins made him want to take off his noble clothing and run, run back to the woods. But someone stopped him.  
It was a small, golden-haired elven girl. Her eyes were wise and gentle.  
“Are you an elf? You look very important.”  
He wanted to scream “I’m not, I’m just like you,” but he only managed a strangled noise from the back of his throat.  
“I wish we were important. I wish someone cared.”  
The sadness in her voice burned like the wine he drank a few hours earlier. He took off his coat and gave it to the child without a word. Then he took off his boots and put the sack of gold inside them. He took off his rings and earrings and bracelets and cast them aside.  
And then he ran, ran down the streets, fast like the wind, like a hunted man. He didn’t stop until he reached his camp. He became a Keeper worthy of his clan, and the Dread Wolf never caught up with him.  
  
* * *  
  
It was late into the night when she finally drifted off to sleep, and Solas couldn’t quite stop himself from whispering his side of the story.  
“There was never an alienage there, vhenan. He really intended to spend all the money he got for himself. And it might’ve worked, had he not have a hole in his pocket from my teeth. One bronze coin fell into his ridiculous boots unnoticed, and at dawn the bet was lost.  
I turned him into a plain halla and he returned to his clan, useful at last in his servitude.”


End file.
